A Day in the Studio - Benedict Cumberbatch
by morosemysterymaiden
Summary: A one-shot, first person fantasy with Benedict Cumberbatch. Here there be lemons. Please enjoy.


Silence.

But I knew I wasn't alone. His presence permeated the room – gave the air a peculiar thickness that vanished as soon as he did.

_Timeless tasting of turbulent tongues._

_The tangible tang of trampled souls._

_Taking, taking, taking._

I felt him looming. The smell of sandalwood radiated from his throat and chest. Cool lips hovered next to my cheek. Tentatively he spoke…the sober steps of a man laying new feet on a new planet. I drew a deep breath in.

"Coming?"

The rumble of his voice traveled down my jawline. I could feel his grin as I turned to face him. Time had carved sparse, fine lines into the corners of his visage, delineating paths of pleasure along his neck, folding over fine bones, filling perfect, poignant lips. Strong jaws conducted dark curls that hung loose at his temple. A hint of stubble at his chin. His eyes held an incredible blue intensity unparalleled by anything human.

This man filled me with something that could only be described as a cocktail of infatuation, fascination, and raw carnal desire.

"Ready when you are."

He wrapped long, angular fingers in a lock of my hair, following it down to my waistline. I reached and grabbed a fistful of his shirt, which hung loosely at his wrists. The collar had popped up on the left side. The top two buttons were undone. I removed his hand from my hair and returned it to his side, in an effort to disguise how flustered I was at his touch.

"You want to start off with some gestures and then move into a long pose?" He asked, completely unfazed.

"Yes. I have a few stools that you can use, or you can just assemble some pillows so that you're comfortable enough. We could also move that sofa into the skylight. I actually bought it because I thought it might do well for this."

"That sounds best. I could do a reclining pose without having to build a tower of cushions."

Together we picked up the furniture in question and maneuvered it until it rested in a pool of light beneath the grand skylight in my small studio. With a satisfied sigh, I began to assemble my drawing pad and pencils.

"These are really beautiful, you know." He purred, pointing to the plethora of paintings and drawings that patterned the walls.

"You're a good model. I only draw what I see." I replied. The corners of his mouth drew up in a half-smile. With my drawing pad in my lap, I settled into a chair of my own.

_Flowing flesh fumbling in fortune,_

_We fast in the face of fornication._

_For us it's not fucking._

I watched him sit down on the striped sofa. It was a simple piece, but had intricate carvings up and down the headrest, whittled by some woozy, wayward woodworker. But it was beautiful. He removed his shoes. Socks. My eyes were fixated on his fingers as they undid the line of buttons keeping his shirt together. It dropped to the floor without making a single sound. His hands reached for his belt buckle. My palms grew sticky and my breath grew heavy…the art supplies in my hand suddenly grew very uncomfortable. I wanted nothing more than to assist him – but resigned myself to my professional distance. Even then I couldn't help but admire this man, some 20 years my senior. The map of some alien world rested upon his torso, every mountain, crevice, and plateau lay carved into his celestial form. Hills and valleys, peaks and perilous divides. To traipse along the divine dunes of his ribs…

His trousers and boxers hit the floor, belt buckle sounding off with a soft clang. I saw only the strong angles of his hips bleeding and blending into the soft curve of his behind – everything else in the room had dimmed to black. His skin was unusually pale – the short, dark curls that began at his bellybutton added the most delightful contrast to his complexion. Boiling blood bubbled into my veins. A small fire had been kindled in the pit of my stomach…I grew lightheaded as the oxygen in my body was diverted from my brain.

"Benedict, may I set the timer?"

"Please do. Why don't we start with ten minutes? Wait, one moment…" he said. The capillaries in my eyes almost burst as he hopped down from the sofa and approached without slipping on his robe. The ripple of electric currents through his back as he bent to hand me a pert, pink eraser charged me with an incredible magnetic force. I leaned forward just to be a little bit nearer to him. He then turned to me, drawing his face only a few inches from mine.

"You can't exactly draw without an eraser, now can you?" He asked.

"I don't intend to make any mistakes." I replied. He chuckled heartily. I in turn, groaned internally.

It hadn't been nearly this difficult during our previous sessions…something had changed. Something was irrevocably different.

I wanted desperately to know this man.

"May I ask you a question?"

"Certainly."

"Where are you from? Like, where did you grow up?"

"London. Why?"

"I guess I just realized that we've been working together for all these years and I don't know a single thing about you…" I stated sheepishly.

"Well, technically we've only been working together for about three months. Legally speaking, I mean. There's something a bit scandalous about a minor inviting a grown man to her parent's studio and asking him to remove his clothes."

"Well, it's my studio now. You know, as a birthday gift welcoming me to the adult world. So I suppose I can do whatever the hell I want in my studio."

He gave another hearty chuckle at my reply. The pit of my stomach churned.

"That's the other thing…" I said.

"What?"

"Why do you still model? You certainly don't need the money. I've seen you in the pictures…you're very talented. Practically a star."

"Well I don't model anymore. You're the exception." He stated.

I could feel the acute heat of my blood as it flowed to my lips. He returned to his seat, reclining so that his face was positioned at my level and his eyes met with mine. They were like radiant blue fingers delicately tracing the contours of my face, throat, collar, chest. I could feel them as they moved over the corners of my mouth, rolled their gentle thumbs over my lower lip. My fingers began to shake. He moved to extend his left leg along the length of the sofa, leaving the right pulled up closer to his body. Pinning one arm behind his head, he let the other drape across his chest, down his torso. The tips of his fingers lay flat on his pelvis, tapping gently along with the music I had forgotten was playing.

"Pavane, Opus Number 50? Lovely Choice. Fauré is one of my favorite French composers, you know."

"Oh? Personally I prefer Chopin. But then again I've always been partial to piano sonatas...But I do love this piece, I really do." I muttered rapidly and somewhat incoherently. He smiled and chuffed softly.

_Dangerously diligent_

_Darkly diverting our delicious doom_

_Downward, downward._

I returned my focus to the task at hand. I began my drawing with a simple gesture, marking the whereabouts of his limbs and slowly adding his beautiful flesh to his beautiful form. Volume, shadows, light. His body carried so many different tonal values that even if I had omitted all lines from the drawing, he would still be recognized. My pencil meandered along his ribcage, sauntered smoothly along his hips, fixating momentarily on his lean length…but I tried not to stare for too long. His gaze hadn't left my face. I carved out the curves of his shoulders, the corners of his collarbone –

Time.

My phone signaled – loudly – that the ten minutes was done. No, this would not do.

"Benedict, do you mind if I chalk your marks so that you can get back into the pose after a break? It was quite beautiful and I want to bring out a little more detail in this drawing."

"Of course not. Go ahead."

I reached for the small stick of blue chalk beside me and slowly, not without hesitation, made my way to the sofa on which he lay. With trembling fingers I began to outline where his feet rested – the scent of sandalwood penetrating my lungs, seeping into my mouth…I brought the chalk up to his hips, laying down a tentative mark around the curve of his bottom. He laughed softly at my awkwardness. Against my own will my lips were tugged up into something like a smile. I lifted my hand to trace the edges of his elbow, shoulder, chin – I stopped. A low, rumbling growl had emerged from my partner. My other hand, I then noticed, had been drifting across his chest while I chalked him. Perusing the peaks and valleys of his torso. My stomach dropped to the floor…he only grinned at me. The skin beneath my hand was hot and soft and seemed to meet the tips of my fingers with equal anticipation. I stood stunned, unable to detach myself from his beautiful body.

"S…sorry…" I managed to force out.

He took my quivering fingers in his own hand and brought them to his steady lips. He laid tender kisses down the flesh of my thumb and up my wrist while my head spun with his toxic touch. He met my eyes again with his destructive stare.

"Desire is nothing to apologize for." He purred.

"I – I want you."

The words barely escaped my mouth and I could feel my whole body flush with new blood, new feelings, new yearning…my lower hemisphere stirred and a sweet wall of pleasure began to build, brick by brick, in my loins.

"You have to be sure. This isn't something that you can undo." He stated firmly.

"I am sure. I want you. But I need you to want me too." I replied, anxious beyond belief.

He sat up, wrapping his hands around my thighs, lifting my top just the slightest bit, and leaning his head against the planes of my stomach. His thick, dark curls tortured and tempted the hypersensitive skin on my belly.

"Love. I want you too. It takes every ounce of effort within me to restrain my body while you paint me…but I couldn't stop seeing you. No amount of reasoning, physical or mental, would allow me to do that."

My chest fluttered and jumped, and for a few terrifying seconds I thought I might burst. Then, he turned and let out a hot breath onto my stomach, pausing to plant gentle kisses that sprouted into further arousal. I could see him beginning to stir…I quickly went weak at the knees. Benedict stood, picking me up and maneuvering me onto the sofa where he had been sitting just a moment ago. He kneeled on the ground, silently inserting his body between my legs, running his divine hands up my waist.

"Are you nervous?" He asked, genuinely concerned.

"A little…I've never been with someone like you." I answered honestly.

With a sympathetic smile he brought his lips up to mine and kissed me deeply. The stubble on his chin, the earthy taste of his tumultuous tongue, the tickle of his chaotic curls on my cheeks sent blood racing to all corners and caverns of my body. When he finally broke the kiss all I could do was whimper softly. With a satisfied grin he pulled away to remove my clothing. He inserted his thumbs in underneath my top, tantalizingly rolling it up over the curve of my chest, pausing shortly to admire my undergarments. Then his fingers migrated to my jeans. He gingerly undid the button, and with one arm he lifted me, while the other he peeled the pants off my hips. Now mostly naked, I let out a satisfied sigh.

"You are absolutely beautiful." He breathed into my ear as his hands reached around to unhook my bra.

All the blood that had been diverted from my brain now prevented me from putting together a coherent response, so in lieu of words, I dug my nails into his arms in an effort to express my gratification for his affections. Breasts exposed, I could see that he was almost fully erect. He emitted a short, low groan that radiated through my chest. His full, tumescent lips traced my jawline back to my throat. My body was slammed into sensory overdrive, and my skin screamed every time he brought his lips to my figure. Devoid of thoughts outside of this room, he left perfect purple prints down my neck and chest each time he paused to take a bit of my skin into his mouth. Eventually his hands and lips came to rest on my breasts. He began massaging me with his large, wonderful hands…his thumbs moved in small, outward circles around my nipples. My breathing got uncontrollably heavy, every movement he made starved me for air, added a card to the house. Then, tenderly, he brought each of my nipples into his mouth. I could feel his own breath grow hot and heavy, his hands bore into my sides as he centered his focus on each breast as if it were an incredible puzzle to be solved. With each swirl of his tongue he built me up, and the tension made me lightheaded. I fought for air. Looking satisfied, he brought his lips up to my face again and treated me to another hungry kiss. Momentarily satiated, he then returned his focus to the task at hand – his index fingers looped around my panties and began to tug, softly assisting me to shed my last layer, and dropping them to the floor. His eyes radiated sexual intent, and I could feel what he was going to do before he himself did. Starting at my collarbone, his tongue directed a line downward, in between my breasts, over my chest plate, over my bellybutton, until finally he found what he sought. He started slowly. The kisses became deeper and deeper, penetrated further. With every flick of his tongue he added yet more cards to the house of my arousal. Each card marked each second I arrived closer to my impending orgasm. He brought my thighs up to rest upon his shoulders. My hips began to move along with him. My eyes closed, I clamored around in my self-inflicted darkness for his body. I knotted my fingers in his hair and reveled in the vibrations emitted by his low moan. I grew hotter. I could feel my insides boiling as the house of cards was about to collapse –

"Are you ready?" He asked whilst planting wet, delicious kisses on the inside of my thighs.

"Yes, please, I need you."

He stood, leaning over me, placing a soft kiss on my forehead, my nose, my cheeks. He then returned to his previous position, and held my eyes as he slowly inserted his erection into my body. I could feel myself wrap around him, and I could sense each time he throbbed inside of me. He let out a deep, long growl and embraced me in his long, lovely arms. My own arms wrapped up around his pale, muscular back, and trembled with each thrust that he made. Our heavy breathing had become simultaneous. His length filled me up entirely, and with each stroke I was driven closer and closer to the edge. Our lovemaking picked up its pace and our hips began to move more rapidly, the vital magnetism growing stronger and stronger. I threw my arms up and arched my back in pure delight. My legs formed a knot around his pelvis which freed up his hands to do what they wished, and without wasting a single second he returned his thumbs to massaging my arousal. It was as if somebody was slowly inflating a balloon in the pit of my stomach, it grew and grew, sometimes receding, but then returning with fierce intensity. His expression was sexual desire personified – the pull of his cheeks, the shudder of his lips, his choppy, irregular breath…it drove me wild. As soon as his eyes returned to meet mine, it was all over. The balloon burst, the house of cards toppled over. I was shoved over the edge into some abysmal depth where the only thing I felt was the bloodcurdling scream of my body enthralled in orgasm. I did what I could to express to him my current state of being, and seeing my intense pleasure he was forced to follow in turn. The tightness of my now fragile body rendered him unable to control himself, and I felt his hot fluids layer my insides as a guttural moan ripped through his lips. Claws deep in each other's backs, we held each other. As our bodies began to return to their normal state, our grips slackened, our breathing became regular, and the blistering heat between us began to simmer down to a comforting warmth. He picked me up, reclined on the sofa, and laid me down on top of him. I rested my head against his chest and listened to his slowing heartbeat.

"You're absolutely incredible." He said.

"I could say the same to you."

We sat for what seemed like a long while. I traced his features with my index finger and he reveled in the contact between us.

"I know we're not exactly a conventional pair, namely regarding our age difference, but I don't know what I'll do if I don't get to be with you." He whispered tentatively.

"I would sacrifice many, many, innumerable things to be with you. Namely, my reputation. It seems so irrelevant in the context of us, doesn't it?" I replied with a smile. His face lit up and his cheeks flushed.

"I couldn't agree more."

_Furious faulting of the fearless_

_Faking is for the frivolous._

_Find me._


End file.
